I bought my first motorcycle

Growing up, one of my grandmothers said that if I ever bought a motorcycle she would slash the tires.

I always heard of their danger. That if I were to get a motorcycle I would probably die.

In spite of these risks, I took the dive and bought my first bike; a Honda Rebel 300. It is dependable, affordable, and easy to learn for beginners.

I pray for protection for when I am out driving. And to this point, grandma hasn’t popped my tires. But I have reflected on my experience with the bike quite a bit, and I think the implications of that experience will last me a lifetime.

 Changing my idea of risk

I knew having a motorcycle would be risky, but until you actually feel the risk vibrating around you it all seems like a concept more than anything else. My first ride out on some country road where I was actually able to gain some speed I realized the risk of the motorcycle. At 55 miles per hour, I was painfully aware that if I so even dropped my foot onto the pavement I would probably end up flipping the bike and put myself in serious danger.

The bike offers no protection. There are no air bags, no buffers between the rider and road. It took me used to getting used to highway speed because it seems so much faster than the car. Weather plays a huge role in deciding whether to bike or not.

Realizing the frailty of human existence and the fullness which one can live, in spite of the anxious and delicate circumstances they find themselves in, makes one take everything with a sense of seriousness. That it impossible to grasp the infinite risk of the world we inhabit, but it is much better to celebrate what we have been given.

Not everything fits on the bike

My vehicles have always been a little messy, which is in no small part due to my ability to overpack. When driving the family vehicle, I always bring extra shoes or clothes, books or toys for the kids. In the truck right now I have Josiah’s bike, my Oru foldable kayak, and the stroller.I leave that and more in the back of the vehicle just out of convenience.

But I can do no such thing on the motorcycle.

For example, for church yesterday morning I needed to pack food for people who would be attending the morning church event and extra clothes for after that event. But all of that needed to fit in a single backpack.

What I ultimately needed was filtered out, and what I needed was fit into the backpack.

I am finding it true that, in most places I go, I don’t need that much. It is a great feeling to be free from the binds if physical excess.

The joy of a new community

On my first ride down state route 4, I passed another motorcyclist. He was on a cool Harley. He was wearing a blue bandanna, a tank top and jeans, backwards hat and black sunglasses. Typical cool motorcycle guy.

Here I was. White-knuckling the handlebar, rolling down the road on my small Honda, in a motorcycle jacket that is kind of too small, stiff as a board.

And he did the thing. He let go of his left handlebar and dropped his hand low, flashing two fingers in a gesture of recognition.

When he saw me, he saw only another person riding a bike, something he probably has grown to deeply enjoy, and recognized me for sharing a common bond.

I cannot believe how many people talk to me about my bike. About their own experiences riding. About their close calls with the risks of the road. About the coolest rides they’ve been on. About their own heritage with bikes, connecting their story with generations of riders.

To them, by owning a bike I am part of the same tribe as them.

I love that.

In life, it seems to me that it is best to live it with the understanding that great freedom is linked to great responsibility. If you want to experience the thrills and the joys of winding roads, sun on your back, wind rushing against you, it comes coupled with the need to take responsibility for the decisions being made on the road.

Go try something new. Learn a new skill. Develop a new hobby. Travel. Explore. Life has so much to offer, and so many people to meet.

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